Tony Is More Than Adequate
by StarksthenameSnarkisthegame
Summary: In which all the Tony's from many universes come forth due to Loki's trickery. The 'Real Tony' discovers some interesting facts about his race. Warning: Crack, Language. One-Shot. Review, Favorite, and Follow.


No Copy Right infringement Intended.

Warning: Language, Mentions of killing various Tony's.

A/N Decided to post this one shot after major contemplation. I'm so fucking sorry for how long I've been AWOL, and I would tell you if I could, cause I consider you all extended family (even the rude reviewers, who are like the strict, pruney great aunts I've never met), but I can't, per court order ( can you chant run on sentence?). I love you, lets hope you still kinda like me? c:

It was horrid.

The fact that Tony was pouting in a corner was not odd at all. He'd done this many times. Many times. Mostly over stupid things like the last chocolate chip waffle (which he always got in the end because everyone agreed that he needed to grow), or when he didn't get to watch his specific action movie (the one with the RoboCops that they'd seen fourteen times) because it wasn't his turn to pick. Or when he didn't get to sit in between the Cap and Nat (which he also eventually got because everyone thought it was adorable, even when Nat's blouse was damp with drool), even though his want was small and unobvious because hey? Tony Stark needing anything more than material objects and his bots wasn't real.

He didn't need anybody.

But now, as he lay in the corner with ten of himselfs petting him on the back as he skimmed away? He definitely needed someone.

Clint grabbed the biggest Stark, a man with the body of Thor and the face of a Stark. It was definitely different. Especially when his kilt raised to unimaginable lengths and he saw the man's toned thighs. His gut jumped.

Natasha herded two of the medium-sized Starks to a far corner as they argued about who got to figure out how they got home. They were twins apparently. Natasha shivered at the thought.

Steve corralled one Stark, who was apparently thirty years older than the real Stark judging by his class ring. He frowned at the thought that the original Stark was younger than himself - but ice can do that to a 'man' apparently.

Thor and Bruce moved the real(?) Stark to the couch as the others were pushed to the elevator, allowing Jarvis to send them to different floors based off their interests and age.

Tony plopped onto the couch with a groan, pushing his dishevelled hair down like a petulant child who just got his cheeks pinched by Granny. Clint smirked.

"Well Stark? I'm not sure which you I want to keep as my personal slave. Imput?" Clint joked, ruffling Tony's finally flat hair. Stark growled as the rest of the group sat down.

"It's not amusing, your jokes nor your smirk. I assure you this Katpiss." Tony hissed, wrapping his arms around himself and shifting into the couch even further. Natasha sat next to him and fixed his hair while Cap stood guard next to the arm of the chair, a friendly hand on Tony's tense shoulder. Tony sighed as he allowed himself a rest.

He was attempting to get info out of himself, as weird as that may seem. He needed to know what they knew, not for ego inflammation, but for research on how to get them back. Loki's trick was anything but funny.

"I spoke to some of them, but once they started hoarding around me I felt a little green. Sorry Tony, but I can only handle so much." Bruce stated, pushing his glasses up and fixing his collar. Tony nodded in agreement. Thor frowned.

"I shall go search for my brother, for he has to fix this. It is not possible to deal with them any longer Man of Iron. I am terribly sorry if I've offended you, but your counterparts are far too exuberant for my taste." Thor said, giving Tony a reassuring smile before practically running towards the balcony. Clint huffed out a laugh.

"Yup. The Starks have overpowered a Norse God without touching any part of his body. The apocalypse is starting, and soon they'll start multiplying like rabbits a-"

"Clint?!" Steve exclaimed, his thumb rubbing along Tony's shoulder. The tired man unconsciously leaned into his touch as Natasha rubbed at his scalp. Bruce smiled softly.

"So? Even if Clint's point was absurd and/or graphic we need to be able to differentiate them from each other, especially _our_ Tony." Bruce stated, rubbing at his brow. Steve patted Tony's arm.

"Well the six-foot four, two hundred pound 'you' shouldn't be that hard to tell apart huh? Guess its good you missed those workouts?" Steve smiled, watching as Tony punched his forearm and a knuckle popped. Natasha nodded.

"The seventy year old Stark is...unique too. But the others? Their mostly the same size and muscle mass. Should we make a line up? Mark their identifying traits and give them numbers?" Natasha asked, getting a thoughtful glance from the team but ignorance from Tony. She bumped his shoulder and he shrugged.

"I don't care anymore. Lets just get this over with." He muttered, standing as his spine popped from years of bending over a workbench.

The real fun was going to begin.

~.~

Tony stood against the wall, the painters tape glaring at him with those tiny little numbers rising and falling like his chest. He hated getting weighed or anything of the sorts, because he was alway inadequate. He was always too short, or too light. It wasn't his fault that he wasn't the size of the average man or that he didn't get fed enough as a child and was pretty positive that stunted his growth. It's also not his fault that he never has enough time to eat in his lab, or anywhere else. Unless its scotch, or chocolate. He always has time for that.

So he gazed upon the other hims and he glared. They mimicked, which was slightly flattering and creepy all at the same time. The biggest kept looking down on him, which was an offense to his ego, whether the man had to do it to meet his eyes or not, it was offensive. Especially to _the_ Tony Stark. This specific universe was his bitch, not sasquatches over there.

Clint laughed loudly, causing his eyes to shift to the rest of the Starks, and as he did, he found that his head was always angled upward to see them. It was slightly disconcerting, considering they all had more muscle mass than him - well except for grandpa Stark. They were all taller too, which seemed really unfair. Tony pursed his lips, his jaw clenched.

Life hated him.

Natasha and Steve moved down the line, marking moles and height and weight and hair length. It was very in-depth, something Tony wished it wasn't because he didn't want to stand next to the taller hims any longer. He sighed, it wasn't like Clint didn't make fun of his height as of now.

Natasha came 'round with her clipboard erect and her pen hovering over her paper. The rest of the Stark's stared at him as she placed a scale under him and wrote his vitals on the little sheet. She hummed decisively, setting down the board and re checking his height as she glanced upon the rest of their heads. That was interesting.

"Your dismissed." She ordered, shooing them away. They peeked at the chart curiously, and looked at Tony with sudden realization.

"You're the smallest Stark, out of all the universes." One of them hummed out, he was wearing slim fit jeans with a polo, his beard in tact and his hair a tad longer than the real Tony liked. Tony narrowed his eyes.

"No. This isn't your universe, so your measuring systems must be distorted." Tony assured cockily, sitting on the couch and grabbing water from the coffee table. He needed something to fiddle with before he killed himself, or a version of himself so to speak.

The Tony's surrounded him, sprawling over couches and love seats as he slowly drowned in himself. There was a first for everything apparently.

Then the one sitting next to him sighed. He was a couple of inches taller, about thirty pounds of muscle heavier.

"It's okay to be short. We're Tony Fucking Stark and we can be and do whatever the hell we want." He exclaimed, causing the team's eyes to widen. Tony frowned in thought.

"I'm not short. Like I said, it's probably your measurements? Or even the fact that after the Chitauri attack the entire foundation of the tower shifted, and the floor is probably uneven." Tony reasoned, meeting the sly nods of himselfs.

"Yeah, your definitely 'not' short." One assured with no anger or sarcasm in his tone, causing the others to nod and Tony to smile genuinely. The team took that as their moment to leave.

A Tony preening fest was something they were quite familiar with.

~.~

They came back in the family room to find the Tony's, all on one couch.

An almost impossible feat for sure.

Their Tony was in the middle, one was petting his head, the other massaging his sore knuckles. They were watching RoboCop, all of them gasping and shouting along with the action scenes.

"Ahhghgh." Tony moaned, his eyes shut and his breathing smooth and deep. It was the most relaxed he's been in a week. The Tony petting him continued to rub, his eyes glued to the screen along with the others.

Tony would be fine.

In fact, they all would.

And tomorrow morning, when Steve made chocolate chip waffles? Tony would most definitely not get the last one.

Because he's one of many 'Tony Fucking Starks, and he can do and be whatever the hell he wants'.

According to many wise men at least.

A/N I'm getting back into my stories, thought a one-shot would jog my skills a tad. I hope you enjoy, and don't forget to review, favorite, and follow. As for my other stories - they _will be finished_, so get ready? Lmao. Peace. c:


End file.
